To All The Pitch Perfect Ships
by JustAnother13Lover
Summary: To the equally wonderful ships of the Pitch Perfect sea: just stop with the hate. Hug instead.


_**A/N: **__I can't be the only one, but I'm so sick of (not everyone, but a fair percentage of the Pitch Perfect fandom) the rivalry between ships. No one's ship is "better" than another's as no one's ship is "worse" than another's. We all have our own opinions and, though we might not entirely agree with everyone, we should still respect both them and their opinions like you'd want them to do with you. (omg i sound so confusing/wise lol)_

_So, since it's harder to see the positive sides to a pairing you don't ship, I've decided to put together a collection of probably-going-to-be-short pieces that will hopefully angst the empathy/sympathy out of you all and remind you that WE ARE JUST ONE BIG PITCH PERFECT FAMILY WHO HAVE OUR OWN TOY SHIPS AND SOMETIMES WHEN OUR SIBLING'S SHIPS ARE BASHED ABOUT THEY CRACK AND YOUR SIBLINGS GET HURT BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY WE ARE FAMILY AND WE SHOULD ALL LOVE EACH OTHER SO INSTEAD OF BEING THE MEAN SIBLING AND BASHING THE SHIPS BE THE NICE ONE WHO HUGS AND COMFORTS THOSE WHO NEED IT 'CAUSE EVEN THOUGH WE CAN'T ALL SEE THE SAME WAY, WE ALL FEEL THE SAME PAIN._

_Okay, I'm done._

_(This whole collection will be based on the same song since it can apply to practically every ship: "You Don't See Me" by SafetySuit. If you haven't heard it yet, I recommend you listen to it.)_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Don't sue me._

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**BECHLOE, CHLOE'S POV**

* * *

_'Cause you don't see me that way  
You don't see the way I look at you  
When you are not looking at me_

* * *

It hurts.

The way Jesse looks at her and she looks at him.

It practically tears you up inside because you were sure - _so damn sure - _that she felt what you feel when you're with her.

In the shower, your bodies were close in such a confined space and you saw everything. Not just that smooth, flawless skin, the way those droplets of water slid effortlessly down her curves or those tattoos which somehow manage to turn you on even more. You saw _everything._

The way she turned her body away but her head seems to be less willing to turn. The way her eyes flickered down your body, a little too lingeringly to count as an accident, and the slight blush that had risen to her cheeks. The way she covered her body, as though there was something to be embarrassed about. You flirted and winked because you thought her blush was cute. That tiny exhale you swore you had heard makes you confident - even more so than you already were - that she liked what she saw. And when you knocked that bottle out of her hands and watched her _bend over_, you knew that, even though you had known her for barely any time at all, she was going to be the death of you.

You'll never forget that moment when you both sang together. It's was perfect, the harmoniss, her voice, _her,_ and made you feel warm inside - in all sorts of places - and you wanted her so badly. You would have closed the gap between the both of you, throwing her towel on the floor, and kissed her hard if your latest boy-toy hadn't interrupted. The thought of him now makes you sick.

Even though you kissed him at Hood Night. To be fair on you, you were drunk and slightly turned on by the thought of Beca naked in the shower doing the things you probably _would_ have ended up doing if you had stayed. So, yeah, after the flirting and the way you grab bed her hands, pulling her in so, _so _close, close enough you could practically taste her presence, you just _had _to kiss someone - and even though it wasn't her, you imagined it was.

Then there's all those times in rehearsals when you watched her closely, intently. Her moves weren't entirely bad. Yet you searched so desperately to find faults.

_Not like that, like this._

_No, your arms are too low. A little higher._

_Here, let me show you._

Any excuse to minimise the gap between you and press your front against her back, _moulding_ your bodies together and sliding your hands down her arms to her hands. You held her delicately, softly, but you were persistent when she tried to wiggle out from your arms - the place she belongs. You heard her protests and sensed her unease, but never once did she actually push you away. She could if she wanted to, but she never did.

Not like she had first pushed Jesse away. Maybe not in the physical sense, but she had told you once she had trouble with trust. Yet she trusted _you _enough to tell you that. She told you that you were her _closest_ friend. You're confused because that should have meant something.

It hurt, especially when she ran off that stage, after the performance - which you had later found out was put together with _him _in mind - and _kisses _him. It hurt because you were had only just worked up the courage to tell her how you felt, how she made you feel. And now you have all these feelings for her, things you _wish _you had voiced earlier, but now she will never know.

She chose Jesse and you see the way they look at each other. You don't have it in you to ruin a relationship like that. You just want her to be happy, even if it costs you your own happiness. It tears you up because you had imagined her looking at _you, _looking into _your _eyes, like that.

It hurts so much.

It kills you because she doesn't, she will _never, _see you the way you see her.

* * *

_**A/N: **__*gives the Bechloe fandom a big cuddle*_


End file.
